


A Winter Kiss

by fairytalelovr



Series: Winter Roses [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 14:43:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13125846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairytalelovr/pseuds/fairytalelovr
Summary: Companion piece to my fic "Winter Roses", this shows Jon and Dany's first kiss, which happened before chapter 1.This bit of fluff can be read without reading the main fic, but it will make more sense if you read at least the prologue over there.





	A Winter Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> shout-out to Star_Trekker who put this little nugget in my head. This is pure fluff, pure, diabetic-sweet fluff.  
> This little piece is set on Jon’s 14th nameday so roughly a year before chapter 1 and 13 after the prologue.

Jon had been sitting by the half-frozen waterfall for a while now — at least an hour if he was reading the sun correctly. But it wasn’t even midday yet and, being his nameday, Maester Luwin and Master Rodrik wouldn’t expect him for lessons, so he could wait a while longer. It took only a few more moments for the sound of the gallop of a horse to break through the quietness of the wintery clearing around him. Winterstom looked up from the patch of dead shrubbery he'd been trying to eat, neighed, and gave up, turning to the bag of carrots Jon had left for him and the other horse.

Daenerys dismounted awkwardly, hindered by her voluminous skirts and her mount went to join Winterstorm with the carrots. “I hate riding with these,” Dany complained. “I'm sorry I'm late. Lady Stark was hovering, giving me the most ridiculous tasks. I think she somehow knew and wanted to make sure I was kept busy. But Arya helped me scape.”

“It's fine, I haven't been here for long. Can't you wear breeches for riding?”

Daenerys laughed. “Lady Stark would never allow it. She'd sooner figure out a way to get away with drowning me. Or throwing me over the battlements.”

“Father wouldn’t let her,” Jon said, his anxiety growing now that she was here. It was the first time they were completely alone together, no siblings to act as a buffer. But Daenerys had asked to meet and he had agreed before he had had time to second-guess it. A moment of awkward silence stretched.

“I…” she started, then cleared her throat before starting again. “I wanted to talk to you. Without anyone else in the way.”

“Oh! What…” he cleared his throat. “What did you want to talk about?”

Daenerys hesitated, but then took a deep breath and gathered her courage. “Us.”

“Us?”

“Yes. We are to be married.”

“I know that,” Jon grumbled, blushing furiously.

“I need to know if that’s what you want.”

“The King…”

“Oh, blasted be the King!” she exclaimed. “I'm not saying we won't have to go through with it in the end, since the bloody fool has decreed it, but I'm just…” she bit her lower lip and Jon saw immense vulnerability and fragility fill her face. He hated it immediately. She wasn’t weak or fragile. She was a dragon. “I need to know if you… if you care about me at all. Or if it will all be because we are ordered to.”

“I… I just…” Jon fumbled with the words, unsure of what to say. “I do care about you.”

“But?”

“I'm just… I'm not worthy of you, Dany. I mean, Daenerys. I—”

“Dany,” she insisted. “And why would you think you're not worthy?”

He blushed deeply. “I'm a bastard. And you're a princess.”

She snorted, bitter. “And a fat lot of good that did me. I was born daughter to a mad man, killed for his tyranny before I was born. My mother died like too many other women before her and too many after, no special treatment for the Queen. And if your father hadn't stepped in to call it a dishonour, my crown would have been my shroud. No, I care not for titles. I care for men and deeds. I know you, Jon. You are kind and honourable, regardless of the condition of your birth. Kinder and more honourable than too many highborns. Certainly kinder and worthier than the Mad King. I don't care that you're a bastard, that doesn't matter at all. I care about you. I think we can be happy together. Because we want to, not because some fool in the south says so.”

Jon smiled, touched. That had been his greatest fear. Growing up in the same castle, of course they'd talked before and she had always been kind, treated him normally. But deep down he'd always been afraid things would be different when it dawned on her that he wasn't just a foster brother, but her betrothed. That she would have to be tied down and weighted by the shame of his bastardy.

“You really don't mind?” he asked again, needing to hear it. His entire life had been defined by being ‘The Bastard of Winterfell’. The only reason he had ever even been betrothed to Daenerys was because he was a bastard, because the King wanted to shame her. He'd thought she would resent it. He could hardly believe it didn't matter to her.

Daenerys smiled, gnawing on her lower lip. Then she closed the distance between them, set a hand on his shoulder, rose on her tiptoes and joined their lips in a soft kiss. Jon stiffened for a moment, shocked with her boldness, before melting into her embrace. He knew they shouldn't, that they weren't married yet, but nothing in his entire life had ever felt so right.

He relaxed, letting his heart take over, and pressed his lips against hers more insistently. Snow began to fall, tiny snowflakes floating around them transforming the woods into a winter wonderland. He was jarred back to reality when she shivered.

“Sorry. I suppose I should've worn an extra layer of fur,” she said, stepping even further into his warmth.

Jon frowned, looking down at her. She was wearing at least two extra layers than him. “It’s not that cold.”

“Well, I'm a southerner,” she said.

“So am I,” he said bitterly. “But we were both raised in the North.”

“I am the blood of the dragon. I need warmth, fire, not ice.” Jon chuckled, tightening his arms around her. She fit her head on the crook of his neck. “How are you not cold?” she asked. “It’s freezing, but you’re warm.”

“Well, I suppose it is chilly,” Jon said with a shrug. “I guess I'm used to it. But let’s go back. You’re uncomfortable.”

“I'm fine right here,” Dany said, clutching the lapels of his cloak.

Jon smiled, holding her close, breathing her in. She smelled like a summer storm: fresh, anticipated, unruly, and untamed. They stayed like that for several moments until she shivered again. “Alright, let’s go. Otherwise you might freeze.”

“Oh, but I haven’t given you your present yet!” Dany said, pulling her head up reluctantly.

“My present?” Jon asked, confused.

“Well, isn’t it your name day? That’s… that’s why I asked you to meet me, because I wanted to give your present without anyone hovering. Well, that and I thought we should get to know each other better. Without little siblings, septa Mordane or Lady Stark in the way.”

“Oh! You don’t… you don’t have to.”

She laughed. “I know I don’t have to, silly. I want to.” She bit her lower lip. “It’s… it’s quite simple, actually. I just… I just wanted to…”

“I know I will love it.”

She smiled, going back to her horse and taking a long package from the saddle. She set it on a tall stone nearby and Jon walked over eagerly. He ripped the wrapping and gasped. It was a sword belt, complete with a scabbard.

“It’s beautiful.”

“You really think so?”

“I do,” he answered, trailing his fingers through the leather.

“I thought about having wolves engraved, but…”

“I can’t wear Stark heraldry,” Jon said, bitterness filling his voice again.

“Your father would let you.”

“Would he? If he would, why wouldn’t he ask…” Jon shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I can see it does,” Daenerys said. “And you know why he can't ask the King for your legitimisation. Robert Baratheon wants me to marry a bastard.”

“I know,” Jon said with a sigh.

“I thought to leave it free of engravings. So you can choose what you want for your sigil and then have it engraved.”

“Me?” he asked, frowning again. “It’s to be _our_ House.”

“Well, yes,” Dany said, sputtering a bit. “I just… I mean… you will be the head of the House.”

“And you will be my wife, not a broodmare to give me heirs,” Jon stated strongly. “We… I’ve seen a few of these weak ladies who only live to serve their lord husbands. That’s not you, Dany. You have a strength I find beautiful,” he said with a blush. “It will be our House. Our choice. Together.”

“Together,” she agreed with a smile.

And, as the snow fell harder, Jon pulled her in for yet another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Christmas!!! I wish everyone all the best! And hope you enjoy my little gift :)


End file.
